The Marvelous Spider-Man

Chapter Three

By

Jason Richard

One Week Later

It was pretty quiet in the city that night. Normally you had a few people lying in wait to snatch a purse or a wallet. There was at least one person with a gun trying to take advantage of some poor guy who wandered into the wrong alley. However, tonight there weren't any muggers. Things had been happening in that city for the past week to discourage them. A lot of people thought it was just a bunch of rumors making it to the supermarket tabloids, but just as many were getting confident they would be safe going out at night. After all, petty crime seemed to have dropped recently. It was only rumors, but people could tell that something was going on.

The tabloids read:

"Masked man hunts muggers!"

"Giant Spider Catches Crook in Giant Web!"

"Half Man, Half Spider Stalks the City!"

Whenever Peter Parker saw these headlines, he wanted to laugh. He stood atop a larger building overlooking the city. Naturally the headlines were talking about him, and as he looked over the city he wondered just how many people believed he even existed.

He looked at his wrists, adjusting the devices strapped to them. He was pretty proud of these little things. After studying his DNA in his room, using equipment left over from all those science fairs he won, he had discovered that his DNA had the potential for spinning webs, even though that ability had never manifested in his body. From his DNA he had created a formula for his own artificial webbing; a sort of aerosol fluid that hardened when exposed to air, creating a rope-like substance. Using parts he ordered online he built these mechanical web shooters.

He checked them over. They were in perfect working order, filled with a full cartridge of web fluid. He pulled off his clothes, revealing a skin tight costume underneath, and put them into a bag.

His suit was made of a material he had also invented; something that wouldn't stick to the adhesive in his webbing. A spider couldn't get caught in his own trap after all. The hands and feet of the costume were also designed not to get in the way of the adhesive nature of that skin, that way he could stick to walls as if he was barefoot and gloveless.

And Flash Thompson thinks science is dumb, Peter thought.

The costume was red and blue, with head hands and feet, a red mask, and a red stripe that went over his shoulders, on the top of his arms, and across the middle of his chest. Everywhere there was red there was a black webbing pattern, and everywhere there wasn't red there was blue. On his front, on a red field filled with black webbing there was a black spider sitting, and on his back in a blue field there was a red spider.

Out of the bag he pulled out a red mask with the same black webbing pattern. The eyes had two teardrop shaped pieces of plastic that acted as one way mirrors. He could see others, but they would not know him.

His web shooters were hidden inside his gloves, and could be fired through slits in the wrist. Overall felt he was ready to patrol the night. His weapons, the web shooters, were ready, he'd finally gotten used to his power, and his suit was complete. Going out in jeans and a jacket with just the mask didn't quite have the same feel to it, so he felt the trouble of making the suit was worth it.

Of course taking sewing lessons from Aunt May had been a little embarrassing, but a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, he told himself. Over and over and over again he told himself.

Still, mostly he had been catching muggers found at random. After all this time Peter figured he was ready for something big, which is why he stood by his police radio listening for something, anything.

So when he heard the signal for a bank robbery, he couldn't help but feel just a little excited.

He leapt off the building, ready to try a new form of travel he had come up with after seeing a copy of "Tarzan," on a library table. Seeing a man swing from vine to vine had given him a really interesting idea.

For a moment Peter was in free fall, but then he stuck his right hand out. Using the two middle fingers on that hand he pressed hidden buttons on his glove and from his wrists came a 'thwip' sound, as well as his artificial webbing, which stuck to the top of a nearby building. Peter began to swing, and he would have run into said building if he hadn't changed his direction with another line of webbing.

It was a little tricky at first, but Peter soon got into the rhythm of swinging from building to building, and in this manner he made his way towards the bank. It was quite a rush as the wind swept past him. Windows and cars below him went by surprisingly fast. As he went, he couldn't help but express himself.

"Whoo hoo!" he cried just as he swung. "Eat your heart out Tarzan! Yeah!"

People were beginning to notice a man swinging around above their heads, but Peter didn't care. It was time that this Spiderman stopped being a myth. After people saw him now, and after stopping a bank robbery, Peter figured things would be very different in the city.

As for leaving his webbing lying around Peter had designed the formula to dissolve after an hour. He didn't want anyone else cleaning up after him.

"Well," he said to himself as he swung through the city. "This is one superhero who won't get caught littering."

He said nothing else to himself as he swung towards the bank.

….

Captain George Stacy stepped into the surveillance van and all eyes turned to him. He was a tall, blonde, middle aged man with a fierce look most of the time, though many thought he was quite pleasant off duty.

"What's our status?" he demanded.

"Three men," said one of the younger officers sitting at a screen with headphones on. "Wearing cowboy disguises…and one Indian. It's the enforcers sir."

Captain Stacy had heard of them. They were a gang for hire consisting of a sharpshooter, a martial artist, and a boxer/wrestler. NYPD had been trying to catch them for months but without any luck. "Hostages?" he asked.

"Twenty Four, sir."

"Good grief, that's as many as we have in our swat team isn't it?"

"Um, sir…" the officer said nervously, "The hostages are the swat team."

Captain Stacy frowned. "What?"

"Well sir, the robbers didn't keep anyone hostage at first. They just sort told everyone to get out of the bank. Since it was the enforcers the commissioner sent the swats in first and…well…according to what we've gathered one of the enforcers shot the swat teams' tear gas canisters before they had a chance to put on their gas masks. Then two of them, the boxer and the martial artist, got the drop on them while wearing gas masks of their own. The swats were disarmed and knocked unconscious before anyone knew what had happened."

"Fantastic," said Captain Stacy. "Just fantastic. Twenty four of New York's finest captured by cowboys and an Indian. Just great."

….

Montana readjusted the bandana covering his mouth as he pointed his six-shooter. He kept a watchful eye on the swat agents that he, Fancy Dan, and Ox had just apprehended in the large bank. Most of the swat team was still unconscious, and the one's that weren't were groggy. A few feet away several gas canisters with the heads shot off where lying on the ground, along with a couple of gas masks. Taking down the swat team had been surprisingly easy. Montana had the feeling that this was going to be an easy job.

Montana was a stern looking man with watchful eyes, and though his features were mostly covered he fit the role of a cowboy really well.

Ox was a big man with broad shoulders. He looked bored as he pulled money out of the safe, but he also looked mean. He also fit the cowboy model.

Fancy Dan, on the other hand, was a fairly short man with dark skin. He didn't look terribly fierce or angry, but he did look upset. He did not fit the model of an Indian at all as he paced around.

"Montana," said Dan, lifting his hideous tribal mask he was wearing. "Tell me again, why did I have to be the Indian?"

"It's your disguise," said Montana. "Deal with it."

"I get the disguise part," said Dan. "What I don't get is the Indian part."

"We couldn't find another cowboy outfit," said Montana, watching the swat team like a hawk. "And Indian fit the theme. You got Indian because you look the part."

"That's racist."

"So sue me," said Montana as he kept watching.

Fancy Dan walked away, irritated, putting his mask back on. Aside from that he had heard something, like a window opening. He figured it was probably nothing, but he'd check it out anyway.

He turned a corner and was out of eyeshot of the others when he saw, up near the roof of the bank, an open window. He eyed it suspiciously. There's no way the police had climbed up there. How would they get down again?

"Wow," said a voice above him. "When I heard the bank was being robbed by the good, the bad, and the ugly, I didn't realize the ugly was an Indian."

Fancy Dan looked up to see a man in a red and blue suit clinging to the wall…upside down. He was a little too astonished to respond immediately. This, of course, was Peter Parker.

"And really," said Peter. "I'm getting some strong smoke signals from you right now."

"Hey! No Indian jokes."

"I meant the tobacco on your breath. Do you have any idea how much you stink?"

"Yeah," said Dan. "Funny." Though secretly he was thinking that he could really go for a smoke right now. "Who are you supposed to be?"

"I'm the new sheriff in town, chief," said Peter. "You can call me Spiderman."

"Sure," said Dan. "But I'd rather call you boot stain."

And with that Fancy Dan ran forward, did a parkour move by running up a nearby column, flipped over, and kicked the wall where Peter, a.k.a. Spiderman, had been just a moment earlier.

As he hit the ground he saw Spiderman flip to another wall and shoot something white from his wrists. Dan immediately back flipped away as a web-like substance covered the floor where he had just been.

"Fancy moves chief," said Spiderman, impressed.

"That's why they call me Fancy Dan," came the reply as Dan made the move to jump up and kick again.

Almost in slow motion Peter saw through his mask what Dan was going to do. This guy, dressed as an Indian, was pretty fast, and obviously a very experienced martial artist, but with his new reflexes and speed Spiderman could see him coming. He shot some webbing at the column Dan was trying to scale, and his feet stuck to the marble. Being unable to kick off the wall he just fell down, hitting his head on the stone and falling unconscious.

"One down," said Peter. "Two to go."

Meanwhile Montana and Ox had finishing grabbing the money and putting it into a sack. They heard something off where Fancy Dan had. Montana looked at Ox seriously.

"Go check it out," he said.

Ox nodded and wandered over. He quickly found Fancy Dan hanging upside down by his feet. He growled deeply, looking around for whoever did it.

Thwip!

Spiderman leapt down and, swinging in a circle around Ox, tied the large man up with webbing. He landed on the floor, squatting, and cocked his head to the side teasingly.

"Hey big guy," he said. "I'd apologize for putting you in this awkward situation, but it's just too darn funny."

Ox just raised his eyebrow, and then started struggling. Within moments he had broken out of the webbing. He made an impressive sight, even though much of the webbing was still stuck to him.

Peter, as Spiderman, was impressed, and a little worried.

"Oh," he said. "That's bad."

Ox ran at him and punched, but Spiderman just stepped out of the way. Mainly staying on all fours, on some instinct that he still didn't understand completely, he dodged Ox's punches. He sidestepped and back flipped, but Ox couldn't lay a hand on him. He was just too slow.

Peter, behind the Spiderman mask, decided to test his strength.

He grabbed Ox's fists, and they ended up staring at each other. Ox growled and pushed, but Spiderman didn't budge.

"What?" growled Ox. "You have sticky feet or something you freak?"

"Yeah," he said. "That's right, but better sticky feet than squeaky feet."

Spiderman started walking forward, pushing Ox backwards and making his boots squeak across the floor. Ox looked down and Spiderman immediately jumped off the ground, kicked Ox in the head, and flipped over. Ox fell to the ground, unconscious, and Spiderman landed on all fours.

"Two down," he said to himself. "One to go."

Meanwhile Montana heard the commotion, and when it stopped he got concerned. He looked at the swat team, still incapacitated, and walked towards the spot.

He found Fancy Dan and Ox unconscious. He raised his pistols and looked around, only to see Spiderman standing not too far off, just staring at him. In-between two rows of columns it was like the two of them were cowboys in a Mexican standoff, just like an old western.

And Peter, behind his Spiderman mask, thought that was awesome.

"You took out my partners," said Montana.

"You took out the swat team," said Spiderman.

"They were out of their league."

"Likewise," said Spiderman. "Gee, you just handed me that one didn't you?"

Montana decided not to waste any more time. He immediately opened fire with both pistols, but Spiderman dodged. The bullets whizzed past him as he side stepped and flipped. Though he could see the bullets go by in a blur the bullets were still very fast. All Spiderman needed to do, though, was be out of the line of fire by the time Montana fired.

As Montana stopped firing he grimaced.

"What are my bullets to slow to hit you or something?" he demanded.

"The bullets are fast," Spiderman teased. "It's you who's slow."

Montana changed magazines and began firing again. Spiderman leaped up and swung towards him, but Montana shot the threads connecting him to the ceiling. Spiderman fell, and was forced to twist midair to get out of the line of fire.

As he hit the ground Montana kept firing, so Spiderman worked his way over, flipping. He got in close, grabbed Montana, shot some webbing behind him, and threw the cowboy into a newly formed web that was strung between two columns.

Montana shook the web for a bit and struggled, but couldn't break free of the sticky substance. He then glared as Spiderman, who squatted on all fours.

"Sorry pal," said Spiderman. "You may have been in a league of your own before, but you've been out leagued now…Partner."

Montana glared for a second, and then chuckled. "I guess so. Will there be more people like you? People that fast and that strong?"

"Why do you ask?" asked Peter.

"Well," said Montana. "That's just it. Your movements were fast compared to…say…Fancy Dan's. But compared to his moves they were also inexperienced, untrained."

Peter, behind the mask, couldn't deny that. He was agile and flexible, but most of the moves were improvised. Even so, he had proved that his speed and agility were enough to beat people like these enforcers, who had training but normal human abilities. So…

"What's your point?" asked Spiderman.

"You're new to this," said Montana. "So I'll give you a bit of advice. Watch out for guys with powers like yours. If one of them also has training like ours he'll be tough to beat."

Spiderman didn't answer, but just looked. He wasn't worried. It had been a freak accident that he had gotten his powers in the first place. The chances of it happening again were remote at best.

Still, he didn't have time to dwell on it. At that moment the police came in and stormed the building. A few of them came over and pointed their weapons at Spiderman. They were about to say freeze, until they noticed what he was wearing. They all looked at each other, a little confused.

Captain Stacy especially was confused.

"Officer," he said to one at his side. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

"Looks like a guy trying to be a superhero."

When the officers looked back, though, Spiderman was gone. Captain Stacy looked about, but couldn't find him. He sighed, and then ordered his men to take the enforcers into custody.

Meanwhile, climbing on the roof, Peter grinned behind his mask.

"The ninja disappearing act," he said to himself. "I've always wanted to do that!"

Outside the bank one officer, instead of going to the brightly lit police cars, walked away from the scene talking on a cell phone and undoing the buttons on his uniform.

"Yes sir," he said. "I believe our suspicions are confirmed. This Spiderman that's been popping up lately is the product of neogenic research."

Underneath the uniform was a business suit that shouldn't have fit under other clothes but somehow did. Even the pants came off with a single pull while he was walking, though if you examined them you wouldn't find any way to do this yourself. This man made it to an expensive foreign car, opened it, and put the uniform inside. He was about to pull at his neck when suddenly he gave the phone his full attention.

"No, I'm sure. His was moving way too fast for a normal human. As for the webbing it's artificial." He pulled a vial containing a white dust out of his suit and looked at it. "But it has traces of human DNA in it. Nothing substantial mind you. We'll need a real DNA sample to actually do anything but this is defiantly a neogenic mutant we're dealing with."

He listened, and then frowned.

"I see. That's fine. I can't capture this one on my own anyway. No, I'll contact him myself."

With that the man hung up the phone, put it in the car, and pulled away the mask he was wearing. His real face was bald, albino white, and had a very short, almost nonexistent nose. He looked around and then got into the car, driving away.

….

Peter grabbed his bag from the corner. On the roof of that building he got ready to swing away. Almost immediately the police radio starting talking about two escaped convicts driving a stolen vehicle.

He almost put down the bag.

"Alright!" he said, jumping to the edge of the roof. "I feel pumped and ready for some more action!"

At that moment the phone in his bag went off. Curiously he went over too it and looked. It was the alarm reminding him that his curfew was almost up. He rubbed his chin.

"Aw man," he said. "I forgot what time it was. Uncle Ben will kill me if I'm late."

Then he heard the sirens. He could even see the cop cars in a high speed chase heading away from him. He looked at the cars, and then at his phone, and made his decision.

As he swung home with the bag over his shoulder he told himself, "The police can handle this one. It's their job right? I mean sure, I'm fast and stronger and can dodge gunfire but I can't be everywhere. Can I?"

When no one answered he got a feeling in his stomach that he couldn't' explain, but for the most part he ignored it.

….

The next morning, the events of the previous night played on the news. First was the bank robbery, which ended pretty well and introduced Spiderman to the world. The next, however, was the car chase, which ended with a few cops being shot. One of them didn't make it.

As Peter tried to eat his cereal he told himself, "It's not my fault."

"Peter," said Uncle Ben from another corner of the house. "The bus is almost here."

"Okay!" he shouted back. He quickly finished his breakfast he headed outside. On the way he saw the paper on the counter. The Parkers got the Daily Bugle, and the headline read, "New Superhero? Or Celebrity Wannabe." And it went on to talk about how it foiled the bank robbery, but was strangely absent later, letting some escaped convicts getting away while cops were shot.

Peter grimaced and said, "It's not my fault."

With that he left, saying goodbye to Uncle Ben and letting his Aunt May kiss him on the cheek before getting on the bus. He looked back at the house, and though of that news report again.

"It's not my fault."